Round the world goes, by day and night,

  While with it also round go we;

And in the flight of one day's light

  An image of all life's course we see.

Round, round, while thus we go round,

  The best thing a man can do,

Is to make it, at least, a merry-go-round,

  By—sending the wine round too.

Our first gay stage of life is when

  Youth in its dawn salutes the eye—

Season of bliss! Oh, who wouldn't then

  Wish to cry, "Stop!" to earth and sky?

But, round, round, both boy and girl

  Are whisked thro' that sky of blue;

And much would their hearts enjoy the whirl,

If—their heads didn't whirl round too.

Next, we enjoy our glorious noon,

  Thinking all life a life of light;

But shadows come on, 'tis evening soon,

  And ere we can say, "How short!"—'tis night.

Round, round, still all goes round,

  Even while I'm thus singing to you;

And the best way to make it a merry-go-round,

  Is to—chorus my song round too.